


Operation: Christmas

by pinkoptics



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkoptics/pseuds/pinkoptics
Summary: Charles wants Erik to experience Christmas, Xavier style. Erik does not understand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started out in a much different place and this is where it ended up. Originally, it was meant to be Christmas fluff and nothing but, however feelings worked their way in there. Damn these boys and their angsty pasts. *sigh* Still mostly fluff, with a side of angsty past thrown in. Also originally meant to fit into the “Operation” ‘verse I’ve been mentally building over the past week, but because it went sideways on me, does not quite fit with with the overall template most of the fics will (if they are ever written). Oh well, I still imagine it being the same Charles and Erik, so I’m sticking it in there regardless.
> 
> Follows “[Operation: Snowfall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9109705)” in the ‘verse timeline, though you don't need to read one to understand the other. 
> 
> First Christmas after XMFC, beach divorce did not occur, Charles and Erik are slowly building the school.

“Charles, is this strictly necessary?”

“Pardon?” Charles’ voice is slightly muffled. He’s inside the enormous walk in closet. It is the 49th ludicrous thing Erik has counted in the mansion. The closet is larger than every room Erik has ever stayed in and he is not given to exaggeration. Erik can hear and feel the metallic hangers gliding across the bar as Charles attempts to find it. He holds his hand out in front of him and the gliding comes to an abrupt halt.

Charles’s head pops out from behind the door. A look of mild, but fond, consternation on his face. “Was _that_ strictly necessary?” Proving he had heard Erik all along.

“I fail to see the point.”

Charles simply looks at him expectantly, blue eyes over wide and with just a hint of challenge in them. Erik sighs and lowers his arm, releasing his hold on the hangers. Charles goes back to rummaging. Not long after, he hears him exclaim, “A-ha!” and he reappears in the room holding the ugly thing up in triumph. Based on his expression alone, one would have thought Charles had discovered the Ark of the Covenant amidst his cardigans.

Erik pinches the bridge of his nose, not sure if the headache he can feel forming has more to do with his growing exasperation or the visual hideousness in front of him.

“It’s hurting my eyes.”

Charles just laughs. “I’m quite sure they’re meant to.”

“Then I repeat: I fail to see the point.”

Instead of responding right away, Charles tosses it aside and begins to strip off his top. Erik is momentarily distracted from the eyesore. And, from that distraction comes an idea. He seizes Charles by the metal of his belt buckle and watch, and tosses him unceremoniously onto the bed. There’s an “oomph” as Charles lands with little finesse, garments twisted around his head. Before he can untangle himself Erik is on top of him, straddling his thighs. He pushes the fabric up to Charles’ wrists and twists it in a way that tightens it. However, he keeps his own hands pressed firmly around Charles’ wrists. Just in case. Charles’ look of consternation is somewhat less fond this time around.

“Firstly, nothing that is about to transpire in the next few minutes is going to get you out of this,” he says. “Secondly, we do not have time for anything to transpire.”

“Firstly … ” Erik echoes and bends forward until their lips meet in a kiss. Charles resists at first but Erik is nothing if not persistent in all things. By now, Erik has learned many ways Charles likes to be kissed. The skills he honed in his life pre-Charles have come in handy in more ways than he ever might have imagined. His keen observation skills, his adaptability, his focus and single minded determination in pursuit of a goal. It means that in this moment he is almost certain of what is needed to make Charles squirm beneath him. He knows just how hard to press his mouth against Charles’, when and how he should make use of his tongue or his teeth, just how little give he should allow Charles’ wrists. It’s not predictable, not boring, it’s an intimate knowledge that is his and his alone. One he has worked to deepen and expand daily with a relentlessness that he had once used to pursue other, less pleasing, things. When a soft, barely there moan reaches his ears he grins against Charles’ mouth in triumph. Erik pulls back and goes on as though nothing remotely interesting has just happened, “Secondly, I’m happy to continue this work within a time limit.”

Erik can see the mental battle Charles is waging flickering behind his eyes. He is sure Charles is mentally calculating just how much time they have until they are expected downstairs, deciding how late they can arrive without being terribly rude and what they can get away with without becoming too mussed up to be presentable. Sometimes Erik wonders which one of them is truly telepathic.

He’s reminded when Charles gives him a mental nudge. The first time Charles had done this, Erik had been less than pleased and the resulting argument had been heated.  Charles’ calm and genial veneer had cracked in an impressive loss of temper that had startled even Erik. Erik’s “hypocrisy” had been on trial as Charles had pointed out that Erik wanted everyone to be “mutant and proud” except for Charles in so far as it applied to his relationship with Erik. For his part, he was not sure what had stunned him more, the potential validity of Charles’ statement or his use of the word “relationship.”

That nudge meant that Charles’ mental arguments had unequivocally won out against his physical ones. Pity.

Erik gets up and off the bed, but not without quickly using his lips and body in a way that ensures Charles has a fairly good idea of exactly what he is missing. Charles wrangles the unwanted shirt off his wrists and stands up, giving Erik a withering glare. He walks somewhat awkwardly, much to Erik’s satisfaction, to the eyesore and pulls it on. A quick assessment determines that, yes, it still hurts his eyes. The sheer number of colors _alone_.

The wither in Charles’ eyes softens as he takes in Erik’s expression. “You’re looking at it as though you’re wishing it were knitted out of metallic yarn, so that you could shred it to pieces by sheer force of will.”

“It’s - you have - A _verdammt_ reindeer is staring at me from your chest.”

“It’s not just any reindeer, it’s - Wait!” Something has clearly just occurred to Charles as he begins to fiddle with the hem of the offensive sweater.

The nose begins to glow. 

And wait, is it singing?

“Hank’s contributions!” Charles looks incredibly pleased with the overall effect. It is the tackiest item of clothing Erik has ever set his eyes upon.

“Do you have no standards?” Erik grumbles, what little good mood he had been gaining back is swiftly evaporating as the nose starts to blink in time with the music. “I don’t even celebrate Christmas!” He’s grasping at straws now and he knows it.

“Which is why we made sure yours is Hanukkah themed.” Charles produces a box from beneath the bed and hands it to Erik. He takes it from him and gingerly lifts the lid. A bare inch is as far as he gets.

Charles half huffs, half laughs, “It’s not going to bite you. I assure you. Or explode.”

Erik’s raised eyebrow is all the response needed, but he says, “Given Hank’s capabilities, and propensity for blowing things up in the lab, I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”

“Oh for pity’s sake.”

Charles takes the box from him and lifts the lid all the way off. He pulls out a sweater that is equally, if not more, hideous than Charles’. There is a menorah splayed across the chest. It looks as though a five year old pasted on each felt candle as part of a misguided school crafts project. When Charles hits whatever it is in the hem that gets it going, each candle begins to light up in turn. Not long after a terrible rendition of “Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel” begins to play. Erik is not sure which of his sensibilities should take the most offence - religious, cultural, fashion or musical.

“No.”

It comes out with more emphatic finality than Erik had meant it to, but does Charles really expect him to wear this?

“Just, no?”

Erik’s patience for this ridiculousness is beginning to wear thin. He grits out, “Unless you’ve gone temporarily deaf to everything I’ve said in the past half an hour than I think ‘No’ should not come as a surprise.”

Charles bristles, and then, for the merest instant, Erik sees it.

Charles deflates.

His smile, his posture, the humour shining from behind his eyes, it all folds in on itself. If Erik had blinked at the wrong moment, he’s certain he would have missed it. Almost immediately Charles’ smile is back, his posture takes on its usual confidence, but his eyes, his eyes do not lie. For the first time, Erik wonders how often Charles’ affability is a mask he wears for the world, for the children, for _him_. The laugh Charles had been having about all of this nonsense is all but gone. Whatever has taken its place looks tired, dull. Erik is not even sure he would have noticed had he not caught that one moment in time.

“All right,” Charles says, finally giving up and beginning to place the sweater back in the box. “If you really cannot - ”

This is what Erik wanted, wasn’t it?

_Tired. Dull._

“Wait.” Erik catches Charles’ watch hand with his powers again, stilling the sweater’s descent. “Why does this mean so much to you?”

Charles laughs again, but it’s different. It’s the sort of laughter that’s meant to cover something else. “Whatever gave you that idea. It’s just a bit of Christmas fun, really. And if you can’t take it in that - ”

“No,” Erik says again, cutting him off, “Don’t do that.”

_Tell me why you look like I sucker punched you in the gut because I don’t want to wear your ridiculous sweater._

“Don’t do what?” Charles’ expression becomes genuine again, confused.

“Don’t deflect. You tell me to open up, you tell me to air my past. When have you ever done the same?”

_Always seeking what’s in my mind, never inviting me into yours._

Charles starts, then flinches slightly at that, clearly seeing the truth of it immediately.

“And how often do you listen to me?”

Erik grits his teeth, sees the bait for it what it is, and for once, ignores it. “Tell me, Charles.”

He can see that Charles would prefer to argue the point further, but he bends, just a little. “It’s silly.”

Erik takes a step closer and closes his hand around the wrist he’s been holding with his powers, but he says nothing.

_Tell me._

Charles’ shoulders sag again and he relents.

“Raven and I - ” he starts, then stops, becoming apologetic, “I’m sure you’ll find it difficult to believe, but growing up here was not always easy.”

He stops again, as if waiting for Erik to confirm his suspicions. For once, he knows enough to stay quiet and Charles eventually fills the silence.

“Christmas was no exception. It was all pomp and circumstance with none of the warmth. For Mother, everything had to be just so. We were to be the picture perfect greeting card at all times. God forbid we ran through the house and knocked even one decoration out of place. We would help trim the tree but she would snap at us if it did not match her exacting standards. The parties were the worst of all. Absolutely intolerable. Raven and I were to be seen and not heard, sitting primly in our Christmas best, being good little darlings. For hours at time. If we said or did something she deemed inappropriate or embarrassing she would - ”

Charles’ voice becomes hoarse as he finds himself lost to his recollection. His eyes are so far away, not meeting Erik’s, viewing Christmas’ past like Scrooge visited by the first ghost. For all of Erik’s initial confidence he’s now lost in the face of Charles’ emotion. Should he say something? Embrace him? Just listen? He continues to grip Charles’ wrist awkwardly. It appears that he is as useless with Charles’ emotions as he is with his own. For not the first time, the little voice that wonders what he is doing here with Charles, the school, the children, says, _You are not what he needs_. Before he has a chance to say anything, Charles continues.

“ - it doesn’t matter. As Raven and I grew up, well, let’s just say we decided to stand for it no longer.”

Charles’ demeanour begins to shift. It lightens slightly, and a small smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

“We started moving decorations around when she wasn’t looking. Sticking things into the plum pudding. Harmless little pranks. Then, one year, Raven had a stroke of genius. We created the most appalling Christmas jumpers. We didn’t have much to work with that first time, but Raven is nothing if not creative and we did our level best to make them the absolute worst. Mother had laid out a tux for me and a ridiculously poofy number for Raven. Instead, we came down in our horrid jumpers. The look on Mother’s face - ” Charles has to stop to laugh. A genuine laugh this time. “Oh I believe it was rather like the expression you wore a moment ago. We were punished severely, as you might imagine, but every lash was worth it, just to see Mother look that way and disrupt her precious party, even for a moment.

“It became a tradition that was mine and Raven’s alone, a way to redeem Christmas. Eventually, we had to begin hiding the crafting supplies because come December Mother would begin tossing them on sight. Somehow, every year, we managed. No matter how many times she threatened us or how much glitter ended up in the rubbish bin, we - well, we found a way.”

It’s clear that Charles has finished his story, his confession. It’s equally clear that it’s Erik’s turn to say, to do, something. His eyes have turned to Erik expectantly. Charles has shared a confidence, just as Erik had asked him to do, but what on earth is an appropriate response? What did people do or say at times like these? Erik’s appalling lack of experience needles him. He’s just standing there, being as solid and useless as a tree trunk and apparently, for a beat too long.

“So there it is,” Charles says, eyes flicking down, “The tale of the ugly Christmas jumpers. Again, as I warned you, quite silly really. We - ”

_Say something._

“All right.”

Charles blinks. “Pardon?”

“All right.” Erik gently takes the sweater from Charles’ hand, finally releasing his wrist. He pulls off the turtleneck he had been sporting, and pulls the Menorah Monstrosity over his head. The wool is slightly scratchy, his cheeks heat slightly and Erik has to not look down for fear of burning out his retinas. The third part is not terribly difficult because he’s looking at Charles looking at him.

His blue eyes are bright again.

“Just like that? All right?”

“Yes,” Erik says simply and the kiss he receives in response tells him everything he needs to know. He has done the right thing.

Exactly the right thing.

Perhaps they will be a little late to dinner after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Also [pinkoptics](https://pinkoptics.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> Inspired by and dedicated to all of the wonderful Cherik artists who blessed us with Charles and Erik in ugly holiday sweaters!! Thank you @entirelyenigmatic17 and @jadenvargen on tumblr for your inspiration!!
> 
> Also dedicated to @bambimarri and @beyoncecater09 who are kind enough to encourage me in my moments of doubt.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Red Nosed Reindeer[Art] (Operation: Christmas Remix )](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385240) by [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango)




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